


thunderstorm under you

by jessequicksters, themagicalocelot



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort Sex, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 05:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessequicksters/pseuds/jessequicksters, https://archiveofourown.org/users/themagicalocelot/pseuds/themagicalocelot
Summary: Steve and Tony run into each other in the middle of a rainstorm in a forest in Russia; armor broken, shields down, communication systems totally defunct. They have no choice but to patch each other up, try to make conversation, and maybe even mend things between them.(Lots of dramatic kissing in the rain, maybe sex in the forest, beating around the bush for forgiveness, and shirtless huddling for warmth in a cave.)





	thunderstorm under you

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Taylor Swift's 'Spark's Fly' on repeat while writing this so if you want the Mood for this fic, it is that song
> 
> note: jessequicksters is my new AO3 pseud. I'll be more active there from now on and I just wanted to link this fic there!

Steve watches Tony as parts of the armor gets yanked off, battered and broken, piece by piece. He’s left with a tattered frame of it outlining his body, missing a shoulder plate, one glove, and the full front side of the helmet. They’re both standing in the middle of a temperate forest in Russia, rain pouring down on them after being called in to retrieve a rogue alien killer. They had been unamused to see each other at first— _here? after all these years?—_ but figured that the best thing to do was to tag team the guy and part their separate ways. What they didn’t know, was that the alien had phasing capabilities, and so a couple of beams from the repulsors ended up firing straight at Steve, and a few hits from the new jagged-edged shield ended up ripping straight into Tony’s armor.

They stare at each other standing helplessly in the rain, the mission an utter failure, and their bodies taking more hits than they had anticipated. Both their teams had scattered around the thick forest to look for the creature, miles apart, and it’s unlikely that they’d find them anytime soon.

“My comms are down,” Tony says, semi-yelling to break through the heavy sound of water pouring down.

Steve nods. “Mine too.”

Tony points at him. “You’re bleeding, Rogers. If you haven’t noticed.” 

He looks down at his torso, and notices the blood pouring from just below his ribs. “Aw, shit.” The tightness of the uniform had made the wound unnoticeable, but now that his attention is turned towards it, it becomes hard to ignore. He touches it with a gloved hand and the cold water trickling down and it makes him feel a little lightheaded. 

“We need to fix that,” Tony says, after a long pause. “Come on.”

Steve doesn’t move at first, but Tony sighs and rolls his eyes. “You’re not dying out here, Steve. Not after all these years doing god knows what, and besides—that one’s on me.” He picks up his broken glove from the ground, the repulsor that shot Steve still lit up, muddy and wet with a big leaf stuck on it. Tony waves it in the air. “I took a hit, too. So let’s call it even.”

He follows Tony through the woods, barely saying anything. It’s cold, and Steve nearly says it out loud, but bites back on it in the fear that even that may be pushing it in terms of conversation. Both of them are drenched when they finally find a small cave to take shelter in. Steve leans against the mossy wall of rock behind him, and Tony detaches the remaining glove on his hand to use as a light on the ground. He disarms the entire suit and leans in to examine the wound. Pulling Steve’s hand away carefully, Tony inhales sharply when the blood starts spilling down again.

“I’m fine,” Steve says, breathlessly, trying to wave him off. “I’m—”

Tony grabs the glove and clicks on something inside that turns it into some sort of stitch-up beam, patching up the wound carefully, shooting out fibers that hold the open skin back together. “Nanotech.”

“Thank you, Tony.” Steve watches his eyes in glistening in the dark, hair still wet, and it’s hard to tell whether he’s looking at tears or rainwater. 

It’s quiet for a few moments, with Tony just working to get his communications systems back up on the suit, and Steve working to disarm his own suit to dry himself off. The belt, the harness, the shoulder straps, the gloves and the boots all come off. He walks off to the corner of the cave and takes his entire top off. He notices Tony’s eyes on him for a brief second when he turns back around, but they quickly go back to working on his armor. 

He sits back down next to him. “It’s good to—” Steve starts.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tony snaps back.

Steve backs down. “Okay.”

“We just lost a murderous alien, and now we’re stuck in a cave in the middle of this prehistoric forest. If it’s not about getting us out of here, then I don’t want to hear it.” 

“What happens when we get out?” Steve asks. Tony drops everything in his hands and slumps back down. 

“You know what happens. I bring you in,” Tony says, and it’s the first time they’re looking straight at each other, no masks, no barriers in between. 

Steve frowns, pressing his lips together before saying the first thing that comes to mind. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, Steve.” Tony may think his expression is impenetrable, but Steve can see behind the eyes, and there’s a brokenness to his voice that makes it sound like a plea more than a challenge. Steve extends an arm out, and Tony almost looks terrified at first, eyes shifting back up to Steve’s. He doesn’t believe that he actually has the nerve to try.

Steve nearly curls his hand back into a fist, but keeps it open for Tony, until he eventually does take his hand, tentatively, and Steve leads him to move to his corner of the cave, near the wall, and Tony’s dragging his knees to inch closer. Their fingers slowly spread out, pushing in between the other’s, until they’re gripping each other tight and Tony falls into Steve’s chest for a warm embrace. He’s pushing into Steve, and Steve collects all the anger, the tension that’s been building up in Tony in his body, before it slowly diffuses into his skin with every exhale.

“Please don’t,” Steve says in a small whimper, a surprise even to himself.

“Don’t what.” Tony mutters into his bare shoulder, and Steve squeezes his arms a little tighter around him.

“Don’t let go.”

Tony slowly digs his hands into the back of Steve’s head, running his hands through his long, damp hair, brushing through it, feeling his way through it for the first time. He’s never felt Steve like this, and it feels like Tony’s touching him for the first time again.

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me unless it was an escape plan,” Steve says, gasping as Tony slowly brings a hand to his chest, which brings Steve’s heartbeat racing.

“Talking, Steve. I said I didn’t want you talking,” Tony says, and Steve immediately understands. It’s not that kind of reunion, not the type where they talk things out and come to a mutual conclusion. It’s the other type, the type that keeps him awake most nights, thinking of Tony’s skin back on his, them touching wordlessly, because neither of them can’t think of anything to say that could fix this, at least not yet, not without speaking with their bodies first. 

Steve exhales slowly, feeling Tony’s hands trailing down his back now, and he can’t seem to bring himself to protest, or move, or respond in any way whatsoever without saying his piece. 

“This is a bad idea, Tony,” Steve says quietly, against what he’d been told to do. He knows where this leads, the same place it always did when the two of them couldn’t talk things out, or simply didn’t want to. Steve had hoped they’d move past this, move past solving things _this_ way, although it was never really a method for fixing problems, just, pushing them aside for the time being.

Tony’s lips then touch his skin, gently sucking on the side of his neck. His lips feel warm, hot even, in the middle of the excruciating cold outside. If it weren’t for the reactor and Tony’s repulsor building light and heat, they’d probably be frozen to death right now. Tony’s shirt is still damp, and Steve doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but he hooks his thumbs underneath the bottom of the fabric on his back, pushing it up.

“We’ve done worse,” Tony says, kissing harder now, lips sucking on him more aggressively now as Steve tilts his head back, just takes it all in because _god,_ there isn’t much else he could bring himself to do at this point. Eventually, Tony brings his hands back to himself and takes off his shirt now, straddling Steve and moving lips to meet his mouth.

When Tony kisses him, Steve’s ready, lips parted open like he’s just _begging_ for it at this point, which he is, and because he knows it’s all on Tony to make all the moves. He just sits there and takes it, and when Tony brings Steve’s hands around his waist and pushes them lower down his back, Steve knows exactly what he wants. They kiss, for several silent moments, hungry and relieved at the same time, hot cheeks keeping both their faces warm in the midst of the fog coming in from outside.

They wrestle on the ground as Steve brings his entire weight above him, and it’s damp and wet, but at least it’s not rocky. As Tony’s trying to slide his trousers off, he accidentally shuffles backwards to the mouth of the cave as the rainwater blasts down on his face. Steve rushes forward to lean over him, bracing the water and Tony watches as it trickles down his hair, long and slick, and his beard. Tony undoes his trousers, fumbling through the zipper until he finally manages to get a grip on him, hard and desperate. 

Steve wants this, wants his touch more than anything, but he needs more of Tony’s kisses. He brings his face down, hands pulling fistfuls of Tony’s hair as they push each other further out into the rain. The grass outside is soft at least, the air is easy to breathe in and it makes every touch of skin, every contact, all the more comforting in the midst of the low temperatures outside. Puffs of fog come out every time they breathe out, and when Tony’s touching him, and he’s calling out his name, again and again.

“God, Steve, no one’s around. Louder,” Tony commands, hand still moving as Steve’s grinding up against him, still perched on top. Water trickles down his body and streams down onto Tony’s; the arc reactor gleams against the reflections, a bright, beautiful, electric blue in the midst of all the dark greens and browns around them.

He does what he’s told, because _it’s what Tony wants_ which makes it what he wants, too. He moans Tony's name through the trees, echoes bouncing back. It doesn’t take long for Steve to finish, and then Tony once Steve drops down to go between his thighs. Tony grips him by the hair and closes his eyes the entire time, and if he’s moaning his name back, Steve can’t hear it in the middle of the water rushing around them.

When it’s all over—the rain, the sex, everything, they end up huddling back inside the cave. Nightfall comes, and still, Steve doesn’t push his luck by saying too much. Apparently, Tony manages to fix the comms so they can finally contact someone, but it’ll need until the morning to reboot itself, with the suit as the only power source around. Steve doesn’t ask about who’s coming, or where he’ll go once they do. But in the dead of the night, in the middle of the whistling winds and the ruffle of leaves among them, Tony crawls towards Steve and curls up by his side.

“You’re coming home,” he says. 

“You mean—" 

“You’re coming home, Steve,” he repeats. “With me. I won’t let them take you.”

Steve lets out a long exhale. It’s the first time in a long time he’s felt that someone’s there for him, taking care of him in the midst of this wilderness. The landscape then shifts into being something else, no longer intimidating, because he doesn’t feel lost anymore, not with Tony holding him like this, all night.

“Am I allowed to say thank you?” Steve asks, after a significant pause. 

He feels Tony smiling against his chest. “Only after you tell me how much you’ve missed me and what an idiot you’ve been for not calling first. We could’ve done this months ago, without… foliage, all over us.”

“Okay, Tony. Next time, we’ll get a bed.” 

“My bed, which has been unbefittingly empty for a while now,” Tony says, without a hint of bitterness whatsoever. 

“Whatever you want,” Steve says.

“Wow, being a fugitive has really turned you into a pushover, huh. Are you going to roll over at my every command now?” then, to himself, “I’m not sure if I like this new you.”

He turns his head to kiss Tony’s forehead, sweeping a hand over it and through his hair. “Let’s just say for once in my life, I’m not looking for a fight. I’m just happy to be with you, Tony. I can’t let you go again.”

“Well, you better get back some of that bite for when we meet General Ross. I don’t need googly-eyed Steve Rogers, I need the asshole who singlehandedly fucked up entire government establishments in the span of a couple of days.”

“I’ll see if I can get ahold of him,” Steve replies, nonchalant.

Tony goes to pinch him near the waist, and Steve flinches, the both of them giggling and kissing each other some more. Steve knows Tony’s itching for a fight as a last-ditch attempt to invalidate this entire evening together, to be able to tell him _see, it’s never going to work_ but he knows better at this point, and he knows that Tony does, too. Even though it might be easier to just leave things as they are forever, it’s not what either of them wants. The fight, the silence—none of it is worth it anymore, nothing is, for what they have.


End file.
